


Cosplay Contest

by Remasa



Series: Unconventional Scenarios [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Crack, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Fluff, Gen, Hawk Moth is Gabriel Agreste, Humor, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14126799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remasa/pseuds/Remasa
Summary: Gabriel Agreste, annoyed with the shoddy construction and infuriating amount of heroic costumes surrounding him, decides to show everyone at the fair what true quality craftsmanship looks like. Too bad he doesn't actually have a costume. It's a good thing he is a pro at taking advantage of bad situations.Direct sequel toFanboy.





	Cosplay Contest

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through Season 2, episode 3.
> 
> This is a direct sequel to [Fanboy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045871). I do not explain how Gabriel gets to this position. This is purely crack. Gabriel does _not_ know that Chat is Adrien. I am aware of what has occurred in season 2 thus far, and while this may or may not conflict with canon, Gabriel _not_ knowing that Adrien is Chat works better for this story.

As Gabriel walked through the crowds, keeping a careful ear out for that distinctive voice of civilian Ladybug, he began to notice an increase in the number of costumed people milling about. Dozens of Ladybugs, Chat Noirs, and even a handful of akumatized villains dotted the landscape as he twisted and turned. He released a sigh. No sense in trying to find the real heroine now. He resisted the urge to snarl at another spotted superhero as she bumped into him, giggling with her friend, and darted away without even an apology.

He had been wandering around the fair for _hours_ , or so it felt like, attempting to find his nemesis. After meeting back up with Adrien, his eyes flickered over to his companions for the briefest of moments before focusing back on his son. "Adrien, I see you have found your friends. I'm afraid I cannot stay much longer. I'll see you back at the manor. Do enjoy the rest of your time here and please stay safe."

He departed without another word, eager to resume his search and ignoring whatever Adrien had answered in reply. Normally, he would never allow Adrien to freely wander through the crowds without his bodyguard. Normally, he would insist on gathering the names and phone numbers of each of his friends in case something _should_ happen. Normally... he sighed. Normally, there were probably a lot of things he would do. But these weren't normal circumstances. He could feel the time slipping through his hands; the more he allowed himself to become distracted, the further away Ladybug got.

But now, his feet ached, his throat was parched, and that constant throb behind his eyes began to intensify. He needed a break. And some water. He wasn't about to touch any of the horrendous pun-filled concoctions being sold at the fair. He would _not_ stoop to supporting such undignified products. Even if the treats looked particularly delectable. Adrien had already eaten enough for the two of them, anyway, and he briefly wondered if the kid would be bouncing off the walls from the sugar rush tonight. Perhaps it was a good decision to let him burn off some of that sugar around his friends.

The fluttering of a colorful flier nearby caught his eye and he ambled over to read it, ducking out of the steady stream of people. A costume contest. Hmm, that certainly explained the multitude of shoddy costumes around the area. The designer in him yearned to show everyone what a true quality costume looked like. The critic in him wanted to verbally tear apart every sloppy outfit there. And from what he had seen so far, nearly every costume fit that criteria. Too bad he couldn't transform and enter as his alter-ego. That would definitely add a bit of authenticity to the whole fair. After all, what would a fair celebrating Paris' heroes be without the whole reason for their existence? Yes, okay, it was a bit egotistical of him to claim credit for this, but it wasn't that much of a stretch.

Hmm.

He placed a hand upon his chin thoughtfully. Well, why _couldn't_ he enter? It's not as if anyone actually knew what Hawkmoth looked like. He mulled over the decidedly bad idea as it grew and formed in his mind. Really, who would recognize him? He could bump this festival up a notch with a superior costume and really inject a bit of high quality into it. So Parisians can take notes for the next fair the city held and attract even more people. And then he could find Ladybug at that one.

Right, so he could find Ladybug.

His decision made, he noted the entry times and pivoted on his heels, his eyes sweeping around the pavilion. Only this time, instead of trying to spot his elusive enemy, he attempted to locate a decent place to transform.

It turned out to be a lot easier than he had expected. If there was one thing Paris had a multitude of, it was parks. Parks with tall hedges and secluded corners and lots of flowers. And butterflies. No one even noticed the hundred or so that suddenly appeared, nor the flash of milky purple, nor the sudden dissipation of said butterflies.

Soon, Hawkmoth sauntered with the practiced pose of arrogant disdain toward the tent housing the costume contest. He sneered at a few passerbys who cast him doubtful looks. His icy glare stared them down in challenge and they averted their eyes after a few seconds. He ducked under the tent flap reserved for entrants to the contest and nearly crashed into someone right away. Only a delicate half-step twirl to the side saved both of them from a quick meeting with the floor.

"Whoa there, I know you're anxious to strut your stuff, purple boy, but try not to run me over in the process."

Did he just get called...? Hawkmoth leveled a fierce glare at the man standing before him. Alec Cataldi. His scowl deepened. It figures that the abrasive announcer would be the one hosting the contest. Hawkmoth clenched his cane in annoyance, struggling to bring his expression back to a passive neutral.

Alec stepped back and scrutinized Hawkmoth a second time, slow and careful this time. "Hey, that is quite the outfit. Who are you supposed to be?"

"I thought that was quite obvious," Hawkmoth replied in the coldest voice he could muster, "or should I summon one of my akumas to drive the point home?"

Alec's eyebrows shot skyward in surprise before he belted out a hearty laugh. "Wow, man, that's amazing!" He slapped one hand across Hawkmoth's back and the tall man stumbled under the sudden force. "You really have that characterization down perfectly. You're definitely one of the front-runners so far from what I've seen."

Hawkmoth glared as Alec meandered away, still chuckling with amusement. He was half-tempted to summon an akuma right then and there, secret identity be damned, but through sheer force of will he refrained. His grip on his cane tightened. He gritted his teeth and stomped over to the stage, queuing up behind a dozen or so heroes and a couple of akumatized villains. Hmm, maybe he could use a few of these ideas for his next akuma. The designer couldn't shake off some habits, and looking for inspiration – for villainy or fashion week – was as instinctive as breathing to him. His fingers twitched, itching to yank out his sketchpad and jot down a few notes.

After sixty minutes of dreadful Ladybugs and Chat Noirs strutting around on the stage, Hawkmoth froze as he realized one important detail he had forgotten: he needed an act.

He growled under his breath. Every other contestant on stage danced or sang or otherwise performed some awful representation of a toddler's talent show. He had nothing. He wondered what he could do. He had no vocal talent and there was _no way_ he would demean himself enough to dance on the stage. He wondered if he could just summon an akuma and vanish in a puff of butterflies. Maybe crack a couple of jokes?

At this point, he couldn't really back out. He was so frustrated he considered just akumatizing himself again to get out of this mess. Surely the contest would end after the battle, right?

Before he could even narrow down his choices, the assistant behind the makeshift curtain yanked his arm and pushed him onto the wooden stage. He stumbled and righted himself, blinking at the quite literal spotlight now shining upon him. He gulped, gathered his skills with icy indifference, and glared at the crowd as Alec popped up beside him from some unknown alcove, microphone in hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our final guest should really need no introduction. Please welcome to the stage Paris' own supervillain: Hawkmoth himself!" Alec turned away and beamed at Hawkmoth. "It's all yours. Good luck."

The crowd cheered and applauded and Hawkmoth straightened his shoulders, planted his cane, and glared at them. He knew how to work a crowd. After all, even before his brand skyrocketed to success, he had a knack for turning a roomful of harsh critics into figurative kittens eating out of his palm. These fans would be child's play. If they wanted a villain, he would oblige. After all, it might be nice to monologue to someone other than his energy butterflies. And Nooroo.

"You find this amusing, do you?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. The crowd roared their approval. "Hmm," he said with a sniff. His voice remained low and deadly, yet echoed across the tented pavilion filled to the brim with people. He made a deliberate show of gliding across the stage in precise, measured steps, studying the first few rows of people in silence. Hawkmoth could practically feel the anticipation as they watched him. He resisted the urge to smirk.

In the middle of the stage, he stopped and faced the crowd fully. He held up a hand and closed his eyes. "Send me your negative emotions, people of Paris," he intoned. This wasn't how he usually sensed negativity, but he was nothing if not theatrical. They wanted a show, he would give them a show.

The crowd cheered and Hawmoth snapped his eyes back open and narrowed them to slits at the crowd. He shook his head. "No no no," he chided, his silky voice drawing the cheers to a hush. "This is _not_ the negativity my akumas crave. Where is the sadness? The despair? The anger? How can I hope to capture Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses without these negative emotions?"

The crowd cheered in reply, laughing at the impossibility of the situation of negativity in such a cheery place. Hawkmoth smirked as he held up his hand once again, fingers curled slightly as if grasping at tendrils of energy just beyond his reach. "Ah," he drawled, his voice rumbling with satisfaction, "there it is. I sense it."

The crowd gasped. Hawkmoth closed his eyes and tilted his head. "The thrill of a contest masks the intentions of the crowd," he began, the words coming to him as easily as an uncorrupted akuma to his palm, "but they cannot disguise their negative emotions from me. It is the perfect opportunity for my evil akuma to sow discord and strife." He cupped his hand as if corrupting one of his akuma, being _very_ careful not to actually summon a real one. He would never admit it, but he was having so much fun right now. "Fly away, my little akuma," he cooed, "and unmask these hidden emotions!"

With his usual flourish, he twirled his cane and tapped it to the stage. The crowd had stilled at his theatrical soliloquy, listening with baited breath. Hawkmoth chuckled and closed his eyes, pretending to "guide" the akuma through the crowd.

A whirring noise cut through Hawkmoth's concentration. He opened his eyes and tilted his head as a red blur tumbled from the makeshift stage lights, landing in a low crouch on the stage. The crowd roared with approval as Ladybug stood and planted her hands on her hips. Hawkmoth's jaw dropped open. _How did she possibly know...?_

"Your days of corrupting the citizens of Paris are over, Hawkmoth!" she declared, her voice strong and steady with confidence. The audience members rewarded her with a tumultuous cheer.

A soft thump on his other side captured his attention and Hawkmoth turned to discover Chat Noir rising from a low crouch, his baton casually draped across his shoulders. The crowd roared their approval, turning into a mob with frenzied excitement. The stage trembled from the vibrations of the crowd stomping and cheering. "I was looking for a souvenir from this event," Chat Noir remarked with his trademark smirk, "it looks like your Miraculous will do _fairly_ well, Hawkmoth."

Hawkmoth snarled at the black-clad hero. "It is _your_ Miraculous that will be stolen this day, Chat Noir," he threatened. Chat winked at the crowd before leveling his baton at Hawkmoth.

"At the ready, my Lady," he intoned.

"Go, Chat!" Ladybug cried. Both heroes sprinted towards him. Hawkmoth swung his cane up to meet Chat's baton. He ducked as Ladybug's yo-yo zipped past him and got tangled in Chat's baton.

"Hey!" the hero cried.

"Sorry, Chat!" she replied with a wince. She relaxed the tension and the yo-yo untangled. By now, Hawkmoth had slid behind Chat and knocked him over with his cane. The crowd booed as Chat tumbled to the ground. Ladybug wound her string around Chat. With a giant tug, she yanked him over by her and safely out of Hawkmoth's reach. Hawkmoth raised his cane, ready to meet their attacks. Chat scrambled to his feet and stood shoulder to shoulder with Ladybug. Both readied their weapons. Each side waited for the other to make a move.

_Crap crap crap crap,_ Hawkmoth thought, grateful that years of practice allowed him to keep a stony indifferent expression as the single word resonated as a nonstop mantra in his mind. He was desperate not to appear weak in front of the heroes. He couldn't believe of all the luck that the real Ladybug and Chat Noir would recognize him on stage. It was stupid to have entered, no matter how shattered his pride was. His hubris really would be his downfall at this rate. A quick glance around told him the only exit was behind Ladybug and Chat Noir. Maybe...

Maybe he could summon some of his akumas as a distraction. From the deafening cries of the audience, however, no one else had gotten wise that this was a real battle between the real heroes and their archenemy. Should he summon butterflies from thin air, the entire crowd would surely turn on him. He didn't want to imagine attempting an escape as the angry mob surged forward and stormed the stage.

"Ladybug, Chat Noir," he called out, his voice rising above the crowd's applause and reverberating around the room, "my akuma is wrecking havoc among the streets of Paris. Shouldn't you be concerned with saving innocent civilians?" He hoped maybe to play the crowd's emotions against the two heroes.

The crowd reacted, shouting a mixture of boos and cheers. Ladybug grinned. "The akuma will be purified _after_ we take your Miraculous," she replied. The booing faded and the cheers took over.

Hawkmoth refrained from rolling his eyes. He really needed to escape before someone – someone _other_ than the heroes of Paris – caught wind of what was truly happening on stage.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?

Hawkmoth snarled, lowered his cane and pointed it straight at the heroes. "Give me your Miraculous," he declared, "and save Paris from its fate." He snapped his fingers and an energy butterfly descended upon his palm. The crowd gasped and an excited babble arose. Hawkmoth refrained from grinning as he could hear the crowd discussing how he had pulled that trick off. Ladybug and Chat Noir shifted position, wary and alert. They exchanged glances with each other.

The entire room held its breath, waiting to see what would happen.

Chat nodded to Ladybug and they sprang into action. Chat leaped forward, stretching out his baton. Hawkmoth swung his cane up to intercept.

Ladybug swung her yo-yo, aiming for Hawkmoth's palm and the akuma. Her yo-yo hit the akuma and it vanished, not needing any purification. With a snarl, Hawkmoth lunged forward, shoving Chat Noir back. He lifted his cane, ready to summon another akuma, when a heavy thump upon his shoulders interrupted him.

His eyes widened at the sudden intrusion.

"Wow, that was amazing, wasn't it?" Alec shouted into his microphone. The crowd cheered and applauded their approval. "Sorry to cut your little show short, but we're running behind schedule and well, I think it's clear from the crowd's reaction that you three are certainly the winners."

The winners? Hawkmoth blinked. He risked a glance over to his enemies to discover them returning his bemused, wide-eyed expression. Alec dragged Hawkmoth over to the heroes, Hawkmoth growling in mild protest but the bald announcer kept a death grip upon his shoulders. He flung his other arm around Ladybug and Chat Noir, scooping them both up in the process and squishing both heroes and villain into a tight, uncomfortable hug.

Hawkmoth curled his lip in displeasure.

"Congratulations!" Alec shouted. "Let's give it up for these great cosplayers!"

A blinding flash of light erupted in his face. He blinked and shook his head to clear away the spots. A photographer stood there, beaming at them all.

"Thanks, Alec." Leave it to Chat Noir to eat up the spotlight. A small thread of satisfaction rose up as he noticed Ladybug shooting her partner an incensed glare. At least one of them had a good head upon their shoulders. Chat Noir grinned at his partner and waggled his eyebrows. "We're quite honored." His grin turned sly as his gaze slid to Hawkmoth. His blood froze. "We had an amazing cosplay partner. _Very_ convincing."

Ladybug and Alec both turned back to him, one beaming in joy and the other glaring in hatred. He gulped. "Ah, thank you for the opportunity to participate, but ah, I really must be going," Hawkmoth stammered out. He managed to extract himself from Alec's grip and bolted for the exit, ignoring the protests and cries of both the crowd and Paris' heroes. He darted through the people, his eyes casting around for a desperate place to detransform. It wouldn't be long before Ladybug and Chat Noir came after him and he did _not_ want another repeat of their theatrical stage battle. He was content to cower away behind his akumas and stay out of the front lines.

He was paying for his moment of disgust at the fair. Never again. Never ever _ever_ again. If he got out of this, he vowed he would never allow his pride to get the better of him and force his hand into rash decisions. Never. Again.

But for now, he had more immediate concerns than his future endeavors. How long had it been since he vanished from the stage? How long before the two heroes caught up to him? How long?

He heard a noise behind him and a spike of adrenaline shot through him, propelling him in a tumble through the bushes and hedges – his mind subconsciously directing him to safety though the rest of him was in a blind panic.

There!

He ducked into a small tent, thankfully abandoned and used as extra storage.

"Dark wings fall," he gasped in one breath, collapsing on his knees as his purple suit dissolved into his familiar red and cream outfit. He looked up at his kwami. "Not a word," he warned.

The kwami merely stared at him with that unruffled expression of his. Gabriel cracked open his coat and Nooroo zipped inside, but not before Gabriel caught a faint smile upon the kwami's face. He rolled his eyes. He _might_ be able to laugh about this at a later time but for the moment his heart still hammered in his chest so hard he thought it could be heard from outside the tent. He stood and brushed at his clothes, picking off the twigs and leaves that had stuck to his coat. He ran one hand through his hair to smooth the ruffled strands that had fallen into his eyes when he knelt on the ground. With another deep breath to steady his frazzled nerves, he braced himself and stepped out of the tent, hoping desperately he wouldn't find the two heroes waiting for him on the other side.

With a sigh, he spotted no sign of either hero. Nor, for that matter, not a single person noticed Gabriel Agreste departing from the same tent an odd purple-suited man dashed into just moments earlier. He quickened his pace, putting a considerable distance between himself and that tent. Once free of the crowds, he slipped away and quietly headed home, eager to just collapse onto his bed and sleep for a _very_ long time. He didn't even have the energy nor the inclination to try to akumatize someone today. Parisians could breathe easy at their festival.

The next morning, Adrien bounded over to him with a delighted glee, waving his tablet at Gabriel. "Father!" he cried, showing him a picture on the device. "Did you see the results of the cosplay contest from the fair yesterday?"

Gabriel's eye twitched as he looked upon the proof of his idiotic lapse in judgment. It captured the moment perfectly – Alec's smarmy smile and the rest of their baffled, stunned expressions. He wanted to groan in embarrassment and then track down and burn every copy of the blasted picture. He managed a wan smile at Adrien.

"That looked incredibly... fun."

"Yeah it did! We should enter next year," Adrien proposed. He grinned. "You would look fantastic in purple."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I got nothing. After a surprising amount of people latched onto the idea of Gabriel cosplaying, I couldn't get it out of my head.
> 
> Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Thank you to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) for beta'ing this and suggesting corrections (and better ideas) for this story!


End file.
